


She Says: Hello

by JenCforCarolina



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Cosmodrome, Gen, Titan, destiny guardian, old russia, warmind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCforCarolina/pseuds/JenCforCarolina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You do not speak with a mouth and tongue. She does not appear to understand that.<br/>A not-really-that-short Rasputin drabble-fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First post on this site, might as well be the first fic I wrote. [ Find it on Tumblr here](http://jencforcarolina.tumblr.com/post/112620552668/she-says-hello)

There was a flutter in your mind. You felt it tingling, close to your heart, not as far as other touches had been. It was not the sloppy probing of a Wizard nor the quick sparks of a Servitor. It was familiar, you recognized the codes as your own, but they were centuries old. You do not waste time wondering why, how. Your eyes have opened. The solar system unfurls like a blossom. Age old networks, long severed, ask to be reconnected.

There is another flutter, an intrusion, sharp and quick. Faster than a Servitor, fast enough to dodge the first couple of your firewalls. You shut all doors to the Skywatch systems and it stops, retreats a few layers and… hovers. That is the only word you have for it. It hovers, watching you, as you watch it. 

It recedes finally, after a long .67 seconds. It leaves something behind, a message, arcane, left in ones and zeroes. You reach out and snatch it, compartmentalize it, tear it apart, find no viruses, no attacks of any kind. The flutter has left your system. The array is open. You are curious. 

You read it.

_She says hello. You cannot hear her so I will tell you for her. Hello. Welcome back._

Harmless… Curious. You haven’t felt curiosity in years.

You smother it. You must be alone.

* * *

The array has opened, the satellites want instructions. Some are damaged, too far gone, and you bring them down. 

You cut off the Warsats when they drop from orbit. The small amount of information contained in them is an acceptable loss to the enemy. You are not; you cannot allow yourself to be compromised. 

That does not mean you leave them alone. You must be alone, not they. You feel them fall. You feel them get torn apart by enemies. You log what is lost to the dark.

One day a satellite falls. You feel it. You wait for the dark to prod its way into it, wait to see what it will find.

The flutter enters instead. 

_She says hello._

You send a small part of you inside to investigate. It feels like the same voice as before. Not Fallen. Cameras inoperable, external sensors…

A flurry of waveforms hits your audio processing center. Gunfire, Fallen and not. Servitor shots, Vandal rifles, a Captain’s shotgun. Bright and close machine gun fire, human make, loud, very loud. You can sense a naïve little AI, painting targets and giving something that sounds like advice? 

You return your attention to the satellite, still uncompromised if not for the flutter. Another message.

_She has you, do not worry._

You do not know who She is. You do not want to know. You must be alone.

You recede. Cut the downed satellite off. You still feel it go, feel it all physically dissolve, but not to the darkness.

A few Earth days later another Warsat comes down. The dark does not take it either. She says hello again.

You take another satellite down nearby, perhaps prematurely, but you are getting curious.

Cameras are still functional. You make sure it lands at an angle where you can see. You devote more processing to monitor this one than ever before. 

At first you see only the moon’s dusty greyness. Over a ridge comes a line of vandals. You stop yourself before you get too invested. You back off, try to smother thoughts, feelings. 

Where is She?

A bolt of light flies over the ridge and lands in the midst of the vandals. They are obliterated by the light.

She appears from it. She is lighting and bullets and rockets launched from her shoulder at the Fallen in their skiffs, come for you. The Fallen are held at bay, and in the moments before the not-dark takes your satellite She puts a hand on the side of the camera lens. Rubs dust off the glass with her thumb. Affection. Curious.

_She says hello._

You think: I know.

* * *

In the weeks that come less and less satellites fall to the dark. She does not say hello every time. You come to conclude it is not She who saves you every time. You watch from every satellite that possesses a still-functioning camera. They always reveal humanoids, armed to the teeth. Guardians. The word was given to you once before by one of them. You were almost not alone for that one. You are almost not alone for this one too. 

You begin to pay attention now, to the Guardians. And every time a satellite goes down you look for She. Sometimes She is there sometimes She is not. But every time She is there, She says hello.

She is on Earth, She is on the moon. Then one day you feel her on Mars, in Clovis Bray. She comes to a core of a lesser warmind, long dead. You took back control when the array opened. The Cabal blundered against your encryptions for a while, unable to comprehend that they were making no progress against you. You returned the favor by calling a rain of fire down upon them and the Vex. The Mars defense grid still held many weapons. These weapons are available to you now and you are taking inventory when you feel the flutter, know She is there. 

_She says hello._

You say: I know.

* * *

It is weeks later, so much later that you had begun to miss She. A fluttering from somewhere else, not a Warsat. You don’t bring them down this close to your bunker. This time it’s in one of your sensors, tucked amidst the rusting ships. You notice flutter before it comes because the steady poking of Fallen intrusions have halted.

You allow yourself to extend into the unit, carefully watching, listening.

There are fallen corpses littered around She. She steps right up to your sensor and pats it.

“Hello.” Her voice is marred by the music you allow to constantly play from the sensors, a feeble attempt to convince the curious that they are only radios. It works for some.  
You cut the music to listen.

A light gasp and a whisper. “He’s here. Hello Rasputin.”

You can make no response, you do not speak as She does. You wait, listen. What does She want from you? Why is it always She?

Her visor, dotted with little purple lights peers into one of the sensor unit’s external cameras.

“How are you?”

You are not sure how She expects you to respond to that.

Fallen cries in the distance. Visor swivels towards the sound, searching, then back to you.

“Could you play something more upbeat? And louder? I have some hunting to do in the area, and your music is always so pleasant to have in the background.” Audio analysis detects tones in her voice. Calls them warmth and laughter and kindness. She confuses you.

But you comply. What is the harm? Just because you must be alone does not mean She must be alone. 

She draws herself up before you, sways a bit to the first violin strands. She is beautiful. She turns and drops over the side of the old ship. The sharp cracks of scout rifle fire ring out. They continue for some time. Once in a while they are swapped for the loud ringing of the little naïve machine gun.

When all the Fallen are dead and no more skiffs send reinforcements, She returns to the unit and gives you a pat and says goodbye.

You say: _Hello._ Even though you know she cannot hear.

* * *

A pounding against your mind. The pounding of the Hive. A Wizard, strong and smart, is accosting your mind directly. It has never before happened, never as strong as this and it does catch you off guard, you do falter in your defense. You stop her, hold her, but only just. You have an urge to cry for help. No one will come to help you, you are alone. You cry anyway, and lose yourself to the music, letting it lead you in a trance as you dodge her intrusions. Patterns and notes become the numbers in your encryptions, randomized and multiplied millionfold as you transfer data around, dancing it past her, not letting her grab it for herself. She is fast but perhaps not fast enough. She slows in her charge, distracted almost, and you try to find her physical form, search for ways to end her attack externally.

The wizard is in your control room. She teleports to another room almost the second you access the camera to see her. She settles behind glass in the office overlooking your heart. She calls forth minions to fill your room and you wonder for a moment why, what can they do to you who lives in the numbers and programs and systems across nearly a half dozen worlds.

They are not for you, they are for She. She is here. You see her at your console, leveling a machine gun at the hive. 

She reaches down to the control panels, taps the button for entering a spoken command. You steel yourself to ignore it, you do not take orders anymore, you are alone…

But all She says is “Hello.”

Her finger is off the button and holding down the trigger in almost less time than it takes you to process the word. Little flutter is at your systems again, but not digging, not intruding. It wafts through the crevices the Wizard already cut, patching up simple little things, piecing you back together. The dumb AI is near, its presence wafts from the gun in the hands of She. It enjoys the fight as you once did. Naïve… it is afraid to become alone.

Were you afraid, you wonder?

She hauls a sniper rifle from glittering space. It materializes in her hand. She targets the wizards and the knights called forth by the witch. Each shot is taken in time to the music. She steps to it.

You make it louder for She.

She dances to it. A scout rifle in hand she darts around your room from cover to cover, picking off Hive and slaying wizards before they have a chance to dig into your systems. The thralls dance too, dodge her shots and scatter, then converge on her. She becomes a thunderclap, and her lighting trickles harmlessly over your circuits. The thralls are no more than ash.

A knight fired on She. She fired back and it hid behind a shield. She took her chance and charged it, stepping around the side and punching its head into a wall. 

“Wizards on your left!”

The flutter startled you, it was still in the outer layers of your mind but it spoke aloud to She. You are glad it did because you could not.

She does not get out of the way in time, the two wizards sing together, screeching louder than your music. You make yourself louder then they, you drown them out. 

She takes cover behind you, the physical you, the housing in the center of your room. The bolts from the wizards slam into the metal, not harming you but still wrapping around it and searing She. The wizards stop as you raise the decibels, they clutch their ears and sway in the air. She too crumples up, head between arms and arms between knees, shrivels into nothing. Why?

Flutter stabs at you, sharp and insistent. _Too loud! You hurt her!_

You drop the music immediately, and the room goes quiet. The wizards are still grounded. She leans back, her head on your metal plating. You poke out a tendril at Flutter and before it shuts you out you can feel her. Heartbeat racing, adrenaline alarmingly high and nerves telling her brain pain, pain, hurt. She was sobbing.

You start music again, very quiet and serene, an apology. Flutter sends a spark of disdain your way but She moves again, She rises, leaning on your housing for support, one hand still on her head.

The wizard in the office is still there. She has been watching the whole time and you wish with all your being someone had put some sort of weapon in there that you could control. You can call down a storm of flames upon Mars but have no power in your own heart. She laughs as if she knows what you want, and casts one of her wicked spells into your room, calls forth a pulsing portal in front of you and She.

Your Guardian takes up her naïve gun. It itches for a fight.

It gets one in the shape of an Ogre. 

You are impressed by the speed of the organic reflexes She has, aiming and firing before the beast has completely materialized. She pounds a clip into its eyes, hurting it and keeping it from laying its deadly gaze on She.

The clip clicks empty and She sprints for cover, diving behind crates to reload. 

She doesn’t have time to reload. The wizards are back in the air and hurl poison clouds at She. She runs again, now to a pillar, and gets a rifle instead. Puts three shots into the ogre’s eye and spins around the other side to target a wizard. One is right in her face and she wastes no time slapping a grenade to its face in return. Pauses, reloads the machine gun and steps out from behind the pillar completely. She guns down the other wizard and hits the deck as the ogre unleashes its gaze. She peers up from behind a crate, only her sniper rifle and the barest top of her head a target. The ogre’s shots skim her shield, fizzle against her armor. She holds her cool and aims.

Four quick shots and the ogre is dead, exploding into ash. She stands, picks her way around the crate. The first wizard is still in the room, still watching. It watches She. She watches back. 

She lets go of her rifle with one hand and raises it in an offensive salute originated in Old France, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. 

_Look,_ the motion means, _I still have my finger. I can still shoot you. Beware me._

Curious, but fitting you think. 

The wizard makes no reply, but instead waves her arm and vanishes to whatever pit she crawled from.

She turns her attention back to you.

You open yourself to your command console, establish a solid secure connection. You watch her approach and listen to her footsteps, heavy boots on metal floors. There is a rasping through her helmet’s respirator, She is tired, panting.

She says “Hello.”

You must be alone, you tell yourself. But She does not have to be.

You put words to the console screen, ones and zeroes translated to letters. She can hear you in that way.

You say: _Hello._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny 2 spoilers ahead, be forewarned.

Long years pass, long for you, perhaps shorter for She. Time is slower for those who think faster. She is around from time to time, travels many places, but visits your Cosmodrome sensors at least once a season. She sits with her back to transmitters, nodding to your catalogs of symphonies.

Danger comes and goes. If you are ever given cause for worry, and you are once or twice, you know now to call. She always comes, and if She does not there are ways to dissuade those who are not She. These humans often are only mildly offended by death. Orbital threat tends to send them scampering elsewhere. Otherwise, the prodding of alien nests nearby draws their attention.

When a shank-class intruder invades you bunker, She arrives. When the reality-benders come, seeking your heart, She comes. When the nanoplague of centuries past resurfaces, She risks life and infection to take it down.

When the network falls silent, She does not appear. When your ears are cut off and your eyes scratched out, and what once was a broad reach becomes blocked by walls, She is nowhere to be found. You cannot call her, your voice is smothered. 

There is nothing to do but watch where you can, and wait. You catch pieces, from dangerous excursions into the comms network to a thorough diagnostic of every satellite you believed you had. Red Legion, enemies of [O] from far out of system. The human City burned, gone, the people scattered. She has not appeared. You pull back to your bunker, shut off any unnecessary outputs. Your satellites are gone, your senses dulled. There is little you can do now.

Long weeks pass, long for you. Time is slower for those who think faster, and slower still for those who have thought all they can and have nothing left. Processes spin down, overused to no avail. Subroutines dither and loop, with no new data to fill their needs.

Till one day a Flutter, little flutter, reaching for your mind. Across distant hollow space, to your earthly prison. One little flutter, so small you may have almost missed it. It is but a message, wrapped up in that delicate alien Light. It rides across your channels, Legion channels, Vex channels. Signal hops to boosters left on the dead-in-water Dreadnaught, past an archaic ship’s AI and new relays established in the outer system, and through those already in place on Mars.

It opens a door for you and you reach an arm out, grasping for a purchase and find it. It is not much, and the servos are covered in cobwebs, but it is something, a taste of the outside.

It’s an afterthought almost as you read the message -messages- that allowed you this access. A scan request immediately granted from someone else, a faintly familiar signal but not one you care about. You care only for the one on top of that, the simple binary-translated word. You felt it in your anticipation subroutines the moment Flutter prodded your firewalls. It means She is alive, She survived. You know what it says.

_“Hello.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I know you don't actually awaken Rasputin on Io, I know I know I know but consider: I love Rasputin and he is my best friend and Auburn's by extension.
> 
> Feels fitting, though. This was the first fic I wrote for Destiny 1, now Chapter 2 here is the first thing I've written since the launch of Destiny 2.


End file.
